Independence Day
by Lalaith Yamainu
Summary: It sucks, don't read it, I'm only leaving it here for old time's sake.
1. Default Chapter

Independence Day

Authors Note: OMG, I'm soooo sorry! gets on knees and begs please, please please, please forgive me!!! I know it's been forever...

I've been having trouble with another fan fiction I'm writing (an Inuyasha one, if anyone's interested - it can be found with my other HP stories that don't match SIYE criteria on under the name "Lalaith Yamainu"), and ff. net's being really, really stupid. The formats gone all wacky....

Anywho, yes, there is character death in this story. But I promise, it all works out! Read it and you'll see! And then review!!!

Disclaimer: Luckily for Harry, I don't own him. Otherwise... yikes.

Chapter One:

It happened again last night.

We were sitting by the fire place like we do every night. Daddy was reading a book, Mama was humming to her big tummy (she's going to have a baby!), and James, Dawn and I were playing chess. Well, Dawn and I were playing, James was sitting there commenting on all the mistakes we made. Big brothers are so annoying.

So we were all there, and it was quiet, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary when Daddy put down his book and stood up. He walked to the door, knocking our game over as he passed by. He grabbed the door handle, and let go really fast, cursing. Mama stood up and went over to stop him, but he pointed his wand at her.

"Let me out weasle." His face was really red, especially around his scar. His hand was shaking, and his hair was soaking with sweat.

Mama didn't say anything, she just backed away and grabbed our hands. Daddy started walking towards us real slow and easy. She pushed us behind her.

"You know you can't stop me. You tried once and you failed. You won't hold out. Why bother trying. After all, we wouldn't want our children to get hurt..." he trailed off, grinning like a Gringotts Goblin. Mama didn't answer, she just pulled us into the kitchen and shoved us toward the stairs. Daddy grabbed her and threw her against the wall yelling while we ran upstairs to the nearest bedroom.

James slammed the door behind us, then grabbed us, and pulled us into the closet. We huddled against him, plugging our ears against the cursing and screaming. Time ticked by. The closet seemed smaller and smaller. And soon the door opened. James got up and pulled out his wand.

"Don't think I won't use this." he warned Daddy, who shook his head.

"It's over," he sighed. His face was wet like he had been crying. But of course, Daddy never cried. Maybe Mama did a water spell....

He looked tired. He was sweaty. He was my Daddy again. With a squeal I ran to him, throwing my arms around him, followed closely by Dawn. James looked like he wanted to join in, but he didn't. After all, he was eleven now, and ready to start his first year at Hogwarts.

Daddy held Dawn to his chest, and then squeezed my hand. He looked up at James. There was a weird look in his eyes...

"Your mother's at St. Mungo's" he rasped.

We froze.

"What... why?" James had gone all pasty and pale. Daddy took off his glasses and rubbed his face.

"When we were fighting... I kicked her. In the stomach..." he looked down at me. "Something's wrong with the baby."

It wasn't the first time.

Daddy... he... he's not... like other people. Well, of course not, he's Daddy. The Boy Who Lived. The Man Who Killed Voldemort.... or so we thought. But really, he just went inside Daddy. No one knew about it, not for years. Not even Mama. Even now, only a few know.

I don't know what happened the first time Tom came out. I just know it was before I was born. It had to have been. Daddy would never hit Mama of his own accord, and Dawn and I are the only twins to survive.

Lemme explain. James had a twin, but something happened, and our sister died before she was born. After them were another set of twins, miscarried before the fourth month. Then Dawn and I (Mama took Daddy and James to stay and Grandma's and Grandpas while she was pregnant with us... Tom _never _comes out when other people are there). A year after we were born, Tom came out again, and hit Mama. My brothers or sisters were dead before she even knew she was pregnant.

Mama and Aunt 'Mione tried all the spells they could think of, but nothing seemed to work. Until this last one. Tom hasn't shown his face for over a year, and we really thought he was gone. But I guess... not.

We stood in St. Mungo's, waiting for news. Daddy paced. He always blames himself. James told us he's not near as bad as he used to be though, atleast that's what Uncle Ron said. The healers rushed in and out of Mama's room with bloody hands. James was "reading" his history book, though his eyes had been in the same place for the last hour. I was playing with a box of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, and Dawn was trying to look like she was asleep.

Uncle Ron and Aunt Fluer were talking in a corner - everyone else had gone home hours ago. It wasn't like they could do anything, Daddy reminded them, and though they pouted, the children (and their constant fussing) won. Aunt 'Mione took Maria, Edith and Lizzy home, so Uncle Ron could stay. Aunt Fluer worked here, so Uncle Bill took Jacque and Belle home - he said someone needed to stay to interpret the Healer gibber jabber.

I nuged closer and closer until I could hear Uncle Ron and Aunto Fluers convorsation.

"... so after Gin convinced him to wait, he began training like mad. Every day with Dumbledore. Incessantly. Then summer came and-" his face screwed up.

"I know what happened" she assured him.

"Right," he looked better, "so after, he started reading. Not the sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts Texts, I'm talking about the Restricted Section stuff. That whole year he went utterly mad with revenge. And after seventh year... it happened. He did the spell. And everyone thought it worked."

Aunt Fluer looked really, really scared. _"It didn't work?!"_

Uncle Ron shook his head. "It didn't work."

"Then what... what..."

"Voldemort went inside Harry."

She froze.

"Are you... are you saying... that _Voldemort_ is... is..." she looked at Daddy.

"Right over there? Yes. He-" Uncle Ron saw me. He stood up, walked over, picked me up, and set me down by Dawn before returning to his talk.

_Dang it _

The nurse came out and whispered to Aunt Fluer, who followed her into the room. Daddy stopped pacing and went over to sit with Dawn. He was shaking, and it scared me. Shaking means cold, angry, or afraid. It wasn't cold, and Daddy wasn't angry at anyone - 'cept at himself. Which only means... The Boy Who Lived... The Man Who Killed Voldemort... _my Daddy._... was... was... was... _afraid._

Goosebumps covered my arm.

Aunt Fluer came out, all sticky and pale... except for her hands. Those were red.

She put a bloody hand on Daddy's clean one.

"Harry" she whispered, "Ginny lost the baby." Daddy put his head in his hands.

And for the first time in my life, I saw him cry.

Authors Note: Okay, first chapters done. I know its sad, and angsty, but it'll all get fixed in the end. Scouts honor.

Huge thanks to Lily!

There were some things I wanted to include - explanations and such, but I decided against it, since Hope's (the girl talking) only eightish. So she probably wouldn't know all the details. They'd try to keep it from her.

Please review! Really, it makes me write faster! I swear!


	2. Interlude

Chapter Two: Interlude

Author's Note: Gah, this has been hard. I've wanted to rush, to get the story over with quickly, to get to the point and ignore everything else, much like I did in "A Woman's Work". But I know that isn't near as satisfying as a good, long yarn. So, while this tale is rather short, I've tried to avoid the "BANG BANG BANG!" writing style. So, on with the show!

_It's been eleven months since I lost my daughter. Since she was murdered by Tom._

_I've been through a lot - possession, betrayal, battles and deaths - and nothing, _nothing_ comes close to the loss of a child. Especially by your husbands hand, even if not by his heart._

_Tom hasn't shown his face again. I think he's afraid of what Harry would do to him. Fear of violence was never his problem. _

_But being possessed by Voldemort can put a wrench in your marriage. In some way's though, it's brought us closer. I look across the dinner table, straight into his eyes. I understand what he's going through; I sympathize with him, I love him. But I don't know how much more of this I can take. I've been beaten, tortured, threatened. I've lost five children. Each was harder than the last. And this one.... little, precious one...._

_I don't know if I can take it anymore._

_Don't get me wrong, I love Harry dearly. More than life itself. But my children..._

_No matter. There's nothing I can do any ways. If I were to leave Harry, he would commit suicide. I know that. He's borderline sane as it is. A man, no matter how strong, and brave, and wonderful, can only take so much. Having the blood of your children on your hands is enough to drive anyone into utter madness. He's much stronger than I am, to still be here._

_His laughter draws my eyes. There must be something funny in the Daily Prophet for him to laugh like that, with his head thrown back, and tears streaming down his face. I wish it would happen more often._

_My solemn gaze quiets him. He doesn't have to ask what's wrong - he already knows. His gaze pierces me before he turns back to the paper. I turn back to breakfast, barely able to choke back a sob. What happened to us? Why can't we have peace? Why can't we enjoy a simple laugh together without having to remember?_

_Why? _

-------------

The house was quiet as usual. James was off at a friends for the summer, "working on potions". Which meant of course that he'd have a mountain of homework when he got back. Dawn and Hope were sitting at the table eating lunch. Harry was working on a new battle plan for the Aurors D.T.'s. Grinning, he looked up at the girls. Noticing the various shapes being created on their plates, he got up and walked over, teasing them about their breakfast.

Ginny loved seeing him and the kids together. It made her laugh. All three of the children were carbon copies of their father (though the girl's hair wasn't quite so messy). When the family went out, people tended to mistake Ginny for a step mother. It always made her laugh.

Hope splashed her milk at Dawn, who returned with a bacon catapult. Ginny intervened before a full fledged food-fight broke out, then sent the dripping black haired beauties to their room to change. Their faces were apologetic, but their emerald eyes twinkled; and she knew that a water fight would soon ensue. No matter.

_Girls will be girls, especially when they're mine._

Harry entered the room silently, arms wrapping around Ginny in a comforting embrace.

"Where did the girls go?" his husky voice caused a shiver to run through her.

"In the shower" was her oh-so-intelegient, breathless reply.

"Oh dear, we'll die of boredom!" he joked, pulling her closer.

She turned to him, tilting her face up for a kiss; he clung to her, ravishing her with passion and desire. She pulled away, waggling her eyebrows before dashing upstairs to their bedroom. He caught up with her, laughing, as they fell in a heap on the bed. Just as his hand strayed, Ginny was blinded by a bloody vision.

_The healers rushed about the room, muttering, and casting dark looks. Her belly was on fire. A crimson haze hovered before her eyes. Somewhere, someone was screaming. She thought it might be herself. _

_A healer leaned over, a good looking chap with black hair and hazel eyes. He was talking to her encouragingly, words that went in one ear and out the other. As he leaned closer to look at her, suddenly he was transformed. His hair grew messier, his eyes grew greener, and his comforting smile became the mocking smirk of Tom. _

_Behind him a young nurse stepped away from the table holding a bloody thing...... the daughter that would never be born. _

With an agonized scream, Ginny tore herself away from Harry. She leaned against a wall, sobbing. Harry made no move to stop her; he fell back onto the pillows and lay there, with silent tears coursing down his face.

The thrum of the shower in the next room soothed her, slowing her tears and clearing her vision. She looked up at her husband. From across the room his emerald eyes glistened, like an ancient river in the sunlight.

"Why?" and she knew he wasn't talking about her actions. Numbly she shook her head, as she walked back towards him. He reached out to her, pulling her into the folds of his arms. Once again the tears came, joining his own as he rocked her back and forth to the gentle lullaby of the water.

Early one Friday morning, Ginny was sorting the weeks laundry for washing. A hand wrapped around her belly, followed closely by a strong, masculine arm. Gently, she tried to shover her husband away, before she felt the cold edge of a knife pressed against her throat.

" Good morning Ginevra."

Ginny froze. The girls were asleep upstairs - he wasn't likely to bother them, so long as they didn't bother him. James was at Joe's house for the summer, and she wasn't pregnant, so her children were safe for the moment.

"What do you want _Tommy_?" she spat. The knife pressed closer.

"Release me." Riddle demanded.

"I thought you were the one who had a hold of me?" She quipped. He growled. She laughed at him.

"I grow tired of your games girl." he intoned, shaking her for good measure. The action disturbed the resting knife, bringing a thin line of blood to her throat. "Release me!"

"I find it funny that the all powerful Lord Voldemort is unable to release himself from a simple set of household wards. Perhaps he is not so powerful as he would have us think.... perhaps the real mastermind behind the whole charade was our dear old Wormtail?!"

"Sarcasm will get you no where girl. I know how much pain this causes you. I know how you are paralyzed, unable to bring yourself to hurt your darling husband.

Don't forget that I am with him at all times. When he sees you. When he thinks of you. When he speaks to you. When he kisses you. When he...." his hand reached up and cupped her breast.

She elbowed him in the stomach sharply, throwing his hand away from her.

"Pervert!" she hissed.

He simply laughed. "I could kill you at any moment girl. Don't toil with me." But they both knew it was a lie. After all, if Tom killed her, then that would deprive Harry of his final life line, his reason for living. If she died, he would join her.

Ginny turned around sharply, once again shoving the knife away. She pushed him into a wall, ignoring the weapon that clattered on the ground. Pulling her wand out, she threw a _Petrificus Totalis_ at him, which he smoothly dodged, tossing back an _Imobilus_ that she avoided no problem. The fight continued for a good ten minutes, before he seized up out of the blue and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Ginny watched warily for a second, then edged closer, prodding him. When she was satisfied he really was her husband, she threw herself next to him and began to sob into his chest.

-----------

The next night Hermione came over to inspect Harry, and evaluate the strength of the spells on him. Her sharp posture and bossy voice soothed Ginny. Hermione, the most brilliant witch of the age, was here, and she would take care of everything.

She asked them questions, and tutted at the appropriate times. She was the image of the perfect business woman.

"What were you thinking about, when it happened?" She inquired.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Whether Gin had forgotten to wash my wool socks in cold water or not."

Hermione nodded, making the appropriate notes in a journal. She then turned to Ginny.

"Had you noticed any strange, or peculiar behavior prior to the event?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing, as usual. He popped out of nowhere."

Hermione sniffed. "It can't be out of nowhere. We simply haven't figured out the pattern yet." She waved a hand at Harry. "You can go."

He reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you."

She looked surprised. "It's nothing Harry." she insisted, and he left; but when she wrote in the journal Ginny could see her hand shaking.

She drew up beside her friend, wrapping an arm around her. "Hermione...."

She sniffed, turning to face Ginny. "How can you do it? How can you deal with it?" she demanded softly. "I'm only his friend, only a sister, and I've never even _seen _him like that.... and it's tearing me apart!" She sounded slightly hysterical, " Your his wife! You've had to deal with this every single time! You've lost children! _How can you do it?"_

Ginny turned to look out the window. Harry was pushing Hope and Dawn on the swing set. She pointed to her family, turning to Hermione. "That's how. If I loose it, who will the children look to? If I go crazy, what will that do to Harry? If people find out, the children will be taken away, and Harry will be put in Azkaban, which we both know would kill him. I _have _to stay calm!"

Hermione backed off, nodding her head slightly as she gathered her books and left. Ginny leaned her forehead against the window pane.

"I have to."

------

Authors Note: Okay, I was going to make this a lot longer, but I decided that certain events should take place in their own chapter. I actually hadn't planned on writing these scenes at all, but they sorta grew. I wanted you to see how this was affecting Ginny.

I probably won't be able to update 'till after Christmas. I'm writing seven - count them - _seven _stories for presents, which will probably take me the next few weeks. But I promise to update ASAP with a nice angsty chapter. But don't worry, it gets fixed.


	3. Concrete Angel

Author's Note: At this time I'm almost through with the first draft. This has been the hardest chapter I've ever written. It's chock full of desperate, raw emotion - which is a complete doozy to write. It'll never sound realistic enough. As I once read (paraphrased) :

"To someone who has never felt love the most simple scene will seem overdone. To someone who has, the most well written one will never come close"

Even though the scene I struggled with wasn't a love scene (in the romantic definition), it's still one that dealt with that power. In my opinion, it's one of those things you have to feel to understand. So I had to try to be as expressive as possible to convey some of that emotion.

I also had to remember that some of my reader's may have experienced this very situation. If so, I give my sincerest, most heartfelt sympathy, and I hope that I haven't brought up painful memories, and nightmares.

Also, I did not include the lyrics to the song that inspired this chapter. If you want them, just type in the title at google or something.

Okay, you probably want to know what the scene is, so enough author's note.

A few day's after Hermione's visit, Harry decided that the girls would be safer away from home, at least for a little while. So the twins dutifully packed their bags and waited on the porch to be picked up by their aunt and uncle.

Harry and Ginny walked out the door.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, squatting so he was eye to eye with his daughters. They looked at him incredulously.

"What's wrong?" Hope replied. "Dad, we're being sent away for our own safety! We're not safe with our own parents!"

Harry exchanged an uncomfortable look with Ginny.

"What gave you that idea?" She asked.

"Don't do that Mum!" Dawn exclaimed.

"Do what?" Ginny wondered.

"Act like we're little kids!" the twins cried.

"Last time I checked, you _are_ little kids." Harry muttered.

"Are not." Hope insisted.

"Not after everything we've seen" said Dawn.

"And done"

"Enough" said Ginny, "you're starting to sound like your uncles. We're treating you the way we - as your parents - think you should be treated."

The girls glared. "Still doesn't mean you have to send us away." Dawn muttered.

Ginny looked at Harry. Harry shrugged, then looked back at the twins.

"Look," he consoled, "this isn't forever. It's only until we can get our bearings again." The girls didn't look convinced.

Ginny knelt next to her husband. "If Tom doesn't come back for a month, we'll bring you back."

"After all," Harry said, looking at his wife, "he's been gone for over a year before."

Ginny grasped her daughter's hands. "So we'll bring you home soon."

"We promise." Harry confirmed.

A sound from inside the house interrupted the conversation as a tall red head stepped out the front door, grinning ear to ear.

"And where are my two gorgeous nieces?"

"Uncle Ron!"

The Auror was then knocked to the ground by two black haired whirlwinds. Harry stood up laughing as he brushed gravel off his jeans.

"You sure you can handle them mate?" he asked, helping his best friend up. Ron straightened his robes, then turned to survey the girls.

" Hmmm....." he pondered, stroking his stubbly chin, "it'll be a challenge.... but I reckon 'Mione and I can handle it." He laughed, slapping Harry on the shoulder before hugging his sister. He then turned to the girls. "Right you lot," he ordered, "you know where the fire place is. We're having dinner at the Burrow first, so head there."

Ginny and Harry scooped up the girls for hugs and kisses.

"You be good now, okay?" Ginny begged, swinging Hope to the ground and reaching for Dawn.

"We'll bring you home soon," Harry whispered to them, "I promise."

The girls nodded dutifully, then grabbed their bags and went through the fireplace.

Ron looked at them one last time.

"You sure you're all right?"

"We're fine Ron," Ginny insisted. "It's nothing we haven't handled before." Harry put an arm around her. Ron shrugged, and stepped into the fire.

The month passed quietly.

Ginny decided it was high time they painted the house, and many an evening was spent discovering exactly how far paint could be thrown, and how many colors they could be covered in. Harry had decided to compile a book, and spent the mornings looking up various spells they had used in battles with the dark side. Afternoons were spent cooking and cleaning, and getting the general chores of the house done.

Three times they were invited to the Burrow for supper, and twice to the Haven (Ron and Hermione's house). These evenings were lively and fun, spent with familiar friends and family. Harry never did get over his legal relation to his best friends, and heartily enjoyed asking his "sister" for help with the book, or getting into strategy arguments with his "brother". He would wrestle on the floor with his four nieces and nephews , chase his daughters around the yard, and gently explain the finer points of batteries to his father-in-law.

James came home for a grand total of three day's before setting off again. It would be his second year of Hogwarts, and he was itching to continue his pranks. When she received her first owl from the Head Girl after he'd only been on the _train_ for an hour, she regretted all those time's she had let the twins mind him.

Tom never showed his face, and true to their words, at the end of the month Harry and Ginny collected the girls from Ron and Hermione. They were quickly reincorporated into the pattern of life at Potter Manor. One of the twins would stay on hand in the library, practicing the three "R's", and occasionally fetching a book for their father. The other could usually be found gardening with their mother, or the two would play in their room together. Dawn was discovered to have a knack for sponging (a type of painting technique Ginny was especially fond of) while Hope had a brilliant eye for color. And so the twins entered the nightly paint duels.

_On the surface,_ Ginny wrote one night in her journal, _this is probably the happiest time of my life. But it only serves to bring more pain, taunting me with the life I could have had. I see the girls with Harry, and am swiftly reminded of the children I will never see, never touch. The afternoons of chores seem to speak to me of a life of monotony, of never having to look over my shoulder, of never having to fear my husband. _

Autumn came and went, followed closely by winter. Peace descended on Potter Manor. An uneasy peace, yes, but peace. James came home for Christmas, bringing with him a mountain of homework, and tidings of mistreatment by Snape. Harry finished the book, and sent it off to the publisher's. Ginny rounded them all up and headed to the Burrow for Christmas Eve, and spent the night keeping the children sober (with no help from Fred and George of course).

Christmas morning was spent with just the family, so that the children could run about in naught but their pajamas and be unashamed. Christmas afternoon was spent with "The Gang" - Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Susan, Blaise, and their respective families.

Neville and Luna had never married, much to everyone's suppress. Luna had gone on to take over the Quibbler, and spent most of her time traveling around, looking for the various creatures she wrote about. Neville had gone on to become a world famous Auror, head of the department, in fact.

It was good to spend time with them. Ginny loved her family dearly, but they could never understand. They hadn't been scared, torn, desperate, victorious, tortured by Lord Voldemort. Oh, they had gone through hard times - everyone had, especially those in the Order - but they hadn't fought, one on one with the Dark Lord like every one of the Gang had.

So they knew each other, they understood each other. They spent the evening chasing children around, cooking, cleaning, opening presents, and, above all, laughing. _After all, that's what the war was for, right? So that we don't have to be afraid. So that we can enjoy ourselves. So we can laugh._

Before she knew it, Ginny was preparing for the annual Independence Day feast. The actual name of the holiday was "Harry Potter Day" (something McGonagall seemed to find immensely amusing), but Harry refused to call it that. In fact, he wouldn't even celebrate it until James came home from a trip to the cousins asking why they didn't have bonfires on May 23. So he grudgingly allowed it.

She was just making the "anciently traditional Potter pie" when Hope bounded down the stairs.

"Hey Mum! Can I go to the parade?" Ginny shot her daughter and appraising eye.

"By yourself?"

"No, Karl'll be there."

"Is Dawn going?" she asked, turning back to the pie.

"Uh uh, she's drawing pictures for tonight." Ginny distractedly nodded, pinching the edges of the crust.

"Stay within shouting distance." She called to the closing door.

Harry trundled down the stairs.

"Hope gone?" he asked blearily, blinking sleep from his eyes.

"Yep" she answered, carefully levitating the pie into the oven. "She left not ten minutes ago."

Harry nodded, and sat down at the kitchen table, stretching as hard as he could.

"Big parade I guess."

She turned to him smiling.

"There always is. You're a big-shot hero."

"Don't deserve it." He grumbled.

"Of course not," she said soothingly, reaching over to brush his hair. "You only defeated the Darkest Wizard of all time."

He looked up at her, eyes glistening. "If I had defeated him, we would have had seven children." He placed a hand on her abdomen, then leaned against her sobbing. She placed her arms around him, comforting him.

_Don't think about it. Harry needs you now. Don't think about it. You can't help him if you break down. Don't think about it. Don't think about it...._

Upstairs she could hear Dawn singing to herself. She could hear the sounds of the parade. She listened to the steady dripping of Harry's tears on the floor.

_Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it...._

Harry's arms tightened around her.

_Don't think about it_

Poison green eyes looked up at her.

"Good morning Genevra."

She tore away from him with a gasp.

"Tom!"

"Pleasant to see you again, my dear."

Ginny ran upstairs, heading for her bedroom. He followed her into the hallway, brandishing the wand that had destroyed him. All at once she heard Dawn singing again.

_I have to distract him!_ she thought desperately.

Tom grabbed her shoulder and yanked her away from the door way, sending her sprawling on the floor. He stood above, leering at her pain.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" he said, "To have your own husband attack you?"

"Like you would know" she replied, " you'd have to _imperio_ someone to marry you."

"I can assure you that before my various transformations I was quite desirable."

She laughed as she stood up. "So that's why Violet Hannings turned you down, right?"

He looked at her condescendingly. "As if that matters. As if I ever cared about such things. I can assure you Genevra, that your pathetic attempts to infuriate me are utterly pointless." He said, advancing towards her. She took a step back.

"You've got a thing for redheads don't you?" she went on, ignoring him. "First with miss Violet, then there was that wench on your block," she scanned the hall, looking for a way out, "of course we can't forget that american woman you met at the market in your fifth year," there didn't seem to be anything; if she opened the doors or windows he could get out, and they were steadily making their way to the Dawn's room. "Of course there's me;" she babbled as her back hit the door of the girls' bedroom, "and I always thought there may have been something between you and Lily Potter."

He froze, hand reaching around her back.

"_What?"_ he hissed, narrowing his poison green eyes.

"You can't deny it," she whispered breathlessly, every cell in her body aware of the little girl playing just behind her, "Lord Voldemort doesn't show mercy."

"Of course not," he growled, hand tightening dangerously on the door handle. His vehemence suppressed her - she had only been babbling; it had never occurred to her she was right.

"So it seems rather strange that he would tell a 'silly girl' to get out of his way, rather than just kill her." _ If he gets mad enough, maybe I can lead him back down stairs _ "Everyone's been speculating for years. Perhaps you had a soft spot for her." His eyes were narrowed dangerously. He pressed up against her, growling softly in her ear.

"You know _nothing!"_ he spat, throwing the door open.

Ginny tumbled to the ground, immediately reaching for her daughter. Tom grabbed her around the waist and tossed her on the bed like she was no more than a rag doll.

"Mummy!"

"I grow tired of playing with you," he wheezed, pulling a whimpering Dawn to him, "I've threatened you, beaten you, raped you, caused you to miscarry...." he pulled his wand out, keeping an arm around the frozen girl, "but nothing gets through your thick head. Maybe it's time for some more....._drastic _measures." He threw Dawn to the ground in front of him.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

A blinding green light filled the room, accompanying distant screaming. Tom stood laughing uproariously as the light faded. With a jolt, Ginny realized she was the one screaming, and stopped, starring instead at the terrifying figure before her. Tom stood, spine straight and head thrown back in mirth above the prone figure of a black-haired little girl. He looked towards her, daring her to make a move. His cocky grin snapped her out of her stupor.

"Acio!" she summoned, wandless magic heeding her call as the wand flew to her shaking hand. Tom's eyes grew wide for a moment, before her voice rang through the room.

"Stupefy!"

She felt, more than heard the thump of his body hitting the floor. She knelt there for a moment, chest heaving. Then slowly, cautiously, she crept towards the fallen child.

_Dawn _

There was a chasm in her chest, sucking everything out more effectively than a dementor could ever hope to do. Though she sat in broad daylight, she felt the deep blackness swirling around her, icy tendrils of it's smoke wrapping themselves around her very soul. And Dawn, sweet Dawn, just lay there, eyes wide open in frozen horror.

Green eyes, like her father's. Like her grandmonther's. Her soft mouth was open in a silent scream. It looked unnatural. Those lips should be smiling, laughing, teasing her brother. It should be puckered, kissing her mother, her father, her sister. It should be singing, talking, eating, reciting. Anything but screaming. Her skin shouldn't be this pale - it should be cherry blossoms, not snow. Her black hair should bring the night sky to mind - not the dark depths of a tomb.

This wasn't her child. It couldn't be. It couldn't. She was numb - to numb to cry. To numb to scream, to rage. She could do nothing but sit there, starring at her daughter.

The shadows on the floor lengthened, and still she stayed. The sun sank below the trees, and still she stayed. The grandfather clock chimed midnight, and still she stayed. The lark began to sing, and still she stayed. The light of the dawn - oh, the dawn, the dawn! The perfectly named Dawn, named for her child, sent it's perfect light upon her face. She could almost feel the eight year old's finger tips, hear her whisper.

_It's okay Mum, don't cry._

A door slammed downstairs jolting Ginny out of her reverie.

"Mum? Mum, I'm home! Dad? Dawn?"

_Hope. Oh my God, what am I going to tell Hope?! _

She heard the sounds of the downstairs being searched.

_Nothing_ a distant part of her mind whispered.

Her face set. She would tell her nothing. It was over. She couldn't handle it anymore. She crawled to her husband.

"You will never know what you've done," she whispered, tenderly stroking his face. "You will never know that you killed her. That's all I can do for you. Keep you from knowing." She kissed him softly, and stood up.

Hope thundered up the stairs.

"Mum? Dawn? Where are you guys?"

Ginny quickly opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

"There you are! I was getting worried!" Hope cried, running towards her. "Where is everyone else?" she asked, throwing her arms around her mother. Ginny simply stood there starring. "Mum?" she stepped back, looking into her face. "What happened?"

_Oh baby, baby girl I'm sorry! _

Authors Note: Well, there it is. The hardest chapter I've written in my life. It was near impossible to write Ginny after Dawn dies. Time didn't seem to pass to her, yet she felt every moment. It was incredibly difficult to harness the complete despair you feel when you lose a child and put it on (theoretical) paper.

I'm sorry to anyone out there who has lost a child, if I brought things back. Of course I did, but I'm still sorry.

Well Mom, she got to "the point"


End file.
